Far Away, Long Ago
by HandsThatHeal
Summary: When Henry falls ill with an unexplained illness, Emma Swan enlists the help of a friend from her past - pediatric surgeon, Arizona Robbins. What will happen when Arizona & her wife, Calliope Torres arrive to help? Will the residents of Storybrooke be able to keep their secrets? Or will the presence of Callie & Arizona stir up more magic & more secrets than anyone ever imagined?
1. Prologue

**Title**: Far Away, Long Ago

**Author**: HandsThatHeal

**Pairing**: Callie/Arizona

**Rating**: M/NC-17 (For Future Chapters)

**Summary**: When Henry falls ill with an unexplained illness, Emma Swan anxiously enlists the help of a friend from her past in the form of pediatric surgeon, Arizona Robbins. What will happen when Arizona and her newlywed wife, Calliope Torres arrive to help? Will the residents of Storybrooke be able to keep their magical secrets? Or will the presence of Callie and Arizona stir up more magic and more secrets than anyone ever could have imagined?

**Disclaimer**: All television shows, books, movies, songs, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work and the characters, events, and settings thereof are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

**AN: **Well. . .here lies my latest conjuring. It's much different than any other fic I've ever written, and is definitely VERY AU. This is a crossover story between Grey's Anatomy and Once Upon A Time, but will mostly focus on Calzona. A special thanks to SGCalzonafan for the little nugget of an idea which was this inspiration for this story and also to SGCalzonafan and Shoehore for allowing me to bounce ideas off their amazing minds. I really hope you enjoy this fic, and I definitely look forward to hearing what you all think!

* * *

><p><em><strong>Prologue<strong>_

* * *

><p><em>It's hard to imagine a childhood without fairy tales, without the knowledge and idea of wicked stepmothers and beautiful princesses with skin as white as snow, evil queens and true love's kiss.<em>

_Seriously, where would any of us be without the memory of all those enchanting things like curses and spells that came in the form of devastatingly handsome princes, poison apples, and straw spun into gold or every other spellbinding thing we once found in the world of fairy tales and make believe?_

_As children, we hung on to those ideas; we dreamed of them and some of us even dressed in costumes commemorating and immortalizing our favorite heroes and heroines, villains and fairies, year after year at Halloween. We thrived on the ideas and teachings of these tales, memorizing word for word the soundtracks to movies that breathed life into the characters and stories by lifting them from the written page to vividly transport them onto our television screens._

_But unfortunately, eventually, we all began to grow up. We began to focus on facts and details more than ideas and concepts. We decided to rely more on our experience and instruction rather than intuition and instinct, and most of us became more realistic than innovative, making decisions rationally instead of impulsively._

_In short, as time passed us by, as we grew older, reality started to weigh us down. All things mystical were replaced by palpable data and concrete facts, and we began to realize and acknowledge that the real world is a place so vastly different from the necromantic stories we anxiously begged for during bedtime when we were four years old._

_But why? Why did that happen? _

_Is there some greater power in charge of such a profound metamorphosis? _

_Is there one specific person or entity who tells us at the age of ten that fairy tales and magic aren't real? That we shouldn't believe? _

_If so, who are these people? Because, maybe they need a lesson. Maybe they need to be reminded that there are so many instances in the real world that rank right up there with a genie granting wishes to the person who freed him from the imprisonment of his lamp or the momentous occasion of a sleeping spell being overpowered by the power of true love's kiss. _

_For, is it not a miraculous occasion when a baby is born or a wondrous event when a life is saved by the cunning of a surgeon's hand? Have some of us not actually experienced the magic of true love's kiss? _

_Of course we have. And that's because, deep inside, we all continue to believe and hold onto the hope that maybe fairy tales really do exist. Maybe there really is a little bit of magic left in the world. _

_And sometimes that thought, that tiny little glimmer of hope, is what gets us through. Because, on our most stressful and tragic of days, we need something to believe in, and maybe our memories of fairy tale miracles and fantastical events are just what we need to get us through. Maybe, just maybe, that's enough to help us carry on because, somewhere deep in our hearts, we continue to hope that everything mystifying and fanciful can absolutely happen._

_As long as we believe. . ._

* * *

><p><em>Quickly racing through the wooded area behind the house where she and her family were being held captive in Yekaterinburg, Russia, Alexandra Romanov grasped tightly to her youngest daughter's hand, adamantly refusing to look back in the direction of where her husband and other four children were being lead to certain death by dozens of angry Bolshevik soldiers.<em>

_She couldn't do it. Her racing heart was breaking into a million tiny pieces, and because of that, she just couldn't look back to see the frightened looks on the faces of the people she loved. She had never experienced such torment in her entire life as she considered the thought of not being able to help all of her children but, as she ran, her breath labored with exertion, she now had only one goal in mind._

_To save the life of her seventeen year old daughter._

_"Come on, Anastasia!" Alexandra called in a hoarse whisper, her toe catching on a root, causing her to trip and tumble to the cold hard ground. Gathering herself, she groaned as she stood, her right ankle now burning with pain. "We have to make it to the train station! We have to get out of Russia!"_

_Ominous baritone shouts were the next thing either Romanov heard, the unmistakable sound of Bolshevik soldiers racing toward them once they had detected their escape and, with terror in her eyes, Anastasia Romanov found herself paralyzed with fear. _

_She couldn't move. She couldn't speak. All she could do was stare into her mother's agonized blue eyes; visions of the tortuous attack on her father, three older sisters, and younger brother filled her mind while she and her mother desperately attempted to save themselves._

_Shaking herself from the harrowing scenes that played in slow motion through her head, she finally found the strength to move, her left foot moving in front of her right as she reached out to once again firmly grasp onto her mother's hand._

_And together, they began to run, leaping over rocks and fallen trees until they made their way out of the forest and onto the first cobbled street they could find. With the sound of train whistles ahead of them and the continued shouts of the Bolshevik soldiers coming closer and closer at their backs, Anastasia's wide blue eyes stared helplessly at her mother, her lungs burning with overexertion as she gasped for the air their tortured run had deprived her of. "I can't breathe, mama. I'm not going to make it to the train," she choked, her left leg giving out, causing her to tumble forth onto the hard road below._

_Turning around, Alexandra grasped her daughter's hand, fighting mightily to pull her back up onto her feet. "We're almost there, dochka," she encouraged, finally steadying Anastasia on her feet. "Not much further. We're almost there," she anxiously repeated._

_Mustering all the courage and all the energy she possibly could, Anastasia stepped forward, her leg aching with each labored step she took. "We're going to make it," she said to herself as the sight of the train station drew closer. "We're going to make it."_

_Racing up the stairs to the awaiting train, Alexandra squeezed her daughter's hand more tightly within her own; they had made it this far and there was absolutely no way she was letting go of her now. "Hurry, dochka. Hurry!"_

_Anastasia limped forward and, with a glimmer of hope in her eyes as she watched her mother's foot firmly plant itself onto the first step leading up into the train, she felt a sudden sense of relief flood her body. She was almost there. She could do this. Just one more step, and. . ._

_Grasping onto the handrail of the train compartment, Anastasia pulled herself upward, but suddenly stumbled backward when two large hands brusquely tugged at the collar of her dress. With fearful blue eyes now locked with the identical ones of her mother, Anastasia opened her mouth to scream but, before she could, her beautiful cerulean eyes went wide with terror and with pain. . ._

_And that was the last time Alexandra Romanov ever saw her daughter, Anastasia._

* * *

><p>"You need to do whatever you have to do! Run all the tests. Do all the procedures. Whatever you have to do. You have got to find out what's wrong with him!" Emma Swan anxiously yelled at Dr. Whale from where she stood toe-to-toe with him in the middle of the waiting room of Storybrooke General Hospital.<p>

Dr. Whale sighed in frustration as he shook his head in defeat. "I'm sorry, Emma. I've done all I can do. I'm not sure. . ." The doctor uncertainly trailed off, at a complete loss of what else he could possibly say or do.

"You're not sure of _what_, Whale?" Regina Mills angrily spat at the blonde haired man at the presence of his uneasy silence, her deep brown eyes welling with tears of irritation and fear.

Dr. Whale's own eyes appeared crestfallen. "I'm sorry. I know you're frustrated. I. . ."

"Frustrated?! We are beyond frustrated!" Emma growled, blue eyes brimming with tears of their own. "You're the doctor, here. You need to do something!"

"I realize that, but I'm afraid this. . .this is beyond me. It's beyond my expertise."

Regina and Emma both appeared shocked at the doctor's honest admission; Regina's mouth fell open in nauseating outrage and dread as Emma turned on her heal to begin pacing an anxious circuit around the room.

Emma's mind was racing; her heart was breaking at the thought of potentially losing her son and, crossing back toward the other two people standing in the waiting room, her blue eyes suddenly lit with hopeful realization. "Magic. Wha-what about magic? Can't we use magic to fix this?"

Dr. Whale's face was weary and exhausted as he looked between to the extremely distraught mothers who, despite all their differences, were now solely focused on the health and well-being of their son. "I'm afraid this isn't magical," he barely spoke, suddenly breaking the two women from their intent gaze upon each other. He didn't want to continue; he didn't want to break the hope he now saw in both their eyes, but he knew he had to. As Henry's doctor, he knew he needed to be honest. "Whatever is happening with Henry is. . .medical. It's scientific."

Regina shook her head, hating the fact that Whale had just burst the tiny bubble of hope that had immediately welled in her chest at the sound of Emma's suggestion. She wanted to scream at him. Actually, she wanted to rip out his heart and squeeze it until it was nothing more than a handful of granulated dust, but deep down. . .she knew he was correct.

"It would be too risky," Regina spoke in a hoarse whisper. "Even if we could use magic, we know magic here. . .is unpredictable," she stated, a lone tear dripping down her cheek and past her full lips.

Emma's eyes were wide as she shook her head in complete disbelief and utter devastation. "But he can't. We can't let him. . ."

"Don't say it! Just don't say it!" Regina snapped at the other woman, completely unwilling to hear the end of her sentence. "Don't you even say it, Emma."

Emma's head fell forward in disappointment as she once again began to pace the room. This couldn't be happening. She couldn't be losing her son. Not after she'd only known him for a few short years. That was just wrong, and she was completely unwilling to allow that to happen. She had to do something. She was the savior, for God's sake. But what good was she? What was the point of being the savior and helping everyone else if she couldn't save her own son?

She could feel the frustration and crushing letdown beginning to completely consume her but, just as she was about to dissolve into a fit of defeated tears, she paused, her thoughts going to a person she'd met so many years before. "We need help," she simply spoke, reaching an unsteady hand upward to defiantly wipe at her tear moistened face.

Recognizing a hint of determination in the other's woman's eyes, Regina stepped closer to her. "What did you have in mind?" she anxiously asked.

Emma swallowed hard, watery blue eyes meeting equally misty dark brown. "I have a friend. She's a doctor. A pediatric surgeon," she softly spoke, already reaching into the pocket of her red leather jacket to pull out her phone.

Regina wanted to agree; she wanted to do whatever she could to save Henry but, instead of giving Emma the go ahead to call her friend, she shook her head in irresolute opposition. "We can't bring a stranger to Storybrooke, Emma. What if she sees something? What if she. . ."

"Do you have a better idea?" Emma yelled, completely shocked that Regina was even remotely willing to argue this with her.

Regina appeared shocked by Emma's outburst, and she felt completely ashamed of herself for even questioning the other woman's idea. Because. . .Emma was right. She really didn't have a better idea. No one did and, honestly, she would be damned if she ever let anything happen to her son.

Noting the other woman's concession and finally a look of agreement in her eyes, Emma gave a quick, resolute nod as she held her phone against her ear. "This is what we need to do, Regina. We have to bring her here if we have any chance of saving our son."

* * *

><p>Arizona Robbins quickly rolled on top of her lover, hungrily sucking a swollen bottom lip into her own mouth before blazing a trail down the caramel flesh of her wife's body, nipping, licking, and kissing every inch of the heated skin beneath her lips.<p>

Looking up toward her wife from where her chin now rested against her pubic bone, Arizona tilted her head to the side, grinning mischievously as she gazed into her wife's darkening brown eyes. "Do you believe in magic, Calliope?" she teasingly husked, pausing momentarily before moving further down the other woman's body to kiss the sensitive skin at the crease between her thigh and Arizona's very most favorite part of her body.

Callie chuckled softly at her wife's teasing. "Of course I believe in magic," she breathed, her hips playfully bucking upward, urging Arizona to continue with her intoxicatingly euphoric ministrations. "With you, anything is possible. Especially when you're down there," she continued, propping herself up on her elbows to better see the beautiful blonde nestled between her thighs.

"Hmm," Arizona replied, pretending to consider Callie's logic. "You make an excellent point," she teased as she pulled her hair over one shoulder, the other hand gently moving to spread moist folds.

Breathing in the brunette's heady scent, she then swiped her tongue over her glistening slit before moving in to devour the delicious wetness between her legs. Circling her clit with the tip of her tongue, Arizona then suckled at her folds before nipping at her engorged nub, happily settling in to repeat that cycle over and over again.

"Oh God," Callie gasped as she squirmed against the bed, her hands moving from either side of her body to tangle in wavy blonde locks, her fingers curling around tresses of hair to firmly, but gently guide her wife. "More baby. I need. . ."

The sound of Arizona's cell phone ringing from somewhere near the bed caught both women's attention, though neither woman made any effort to remove themselves from their current positions in order to answer it.

"Let it ring," Callie murmured, her body arching off the bed as the back of her head dug into the pillow beneath the mass of her unruly raven hair. "They'll call back."

Knowing exactly what her wife needed, Arizona fervently sucked her needy clit into her mouth as she unceremoniously plunged two fingers deep into a moist entrance to begin thrusting wildly inside her.

"Arizona!" Callie cried, her hips bucking against her wife's face and hand at the thoroughly welcome intrusion.

The faster Arizona moved, the louder Callie's cries became, her voice rising to a near shriek of sheer ecstasy when the blonde dedicated all of her mouth's efforts to a throbbing bundle of nerves.

Callie was so close, all she needed was just a little more. . .

"You have GOT to be kidding me!" she loudly groaned in frustration when Arizona's phone once again began to ring, her hands leaving the tangle of Arizona's hair, resentful palms harshly smacking against the rumpled sheets. "Please let it ring. Please let it ring. Please let it ring," she nearly begged when she felt her wife suddenly falter in the movements of her fingers and tongue.

Callie rolled her eyes when she felt Arizona's mouth completely disengage from her aching center, though she clenched her internal muscles as a warning to her wife - if she felt her fingers even begin to pull out of her body, she was absolutely going to kill her.

"What if it's important?" Arizona asked, looking up to watch the rapid rise and fall of Callie's chest, two glorious breasts bouncing erotically with each inhalation and exhalation of air.

"They'll call back," Callie whined, her hands fisting in the sheets at her sides.

Content with that answer, Arizona smiled as the phone once again stopped ringing before diving back in to happily and certainly make her wife come at the will of her well-versed fingers and talented tongue.

"Yes, baby. Yes. So close, Ariz. . .FOR GOD'S SAKE!" Callie shouted in dissatisfaction when that offensive device once again began to blare.

Realizing this was only going to continue happening until she answered the damn call, Arizona removed her mouth and her hand from her wife's burning center, taking Callie's left leg into her hands and ducking beneath it as she leaned over the edge of the bed to find her phone. Hastily searching through the pile of impetuously discarded clothing, she finally found it in the back pocket of her jeans. Ungracefully catching herself before she tumbled head first off the bed, she then resumed her position between Callie's legs, her iPhone now held to her ear.

"He-hello," she answered, her tone hoarse and slightly breathless.

"Umm, Arizona?

"Y-yes?" she asked, her eyebrows knitting together as she tried to place the familiar voice.

"This is Emma. Emma Swan."

Leaning up on her elbow, Arizona's eyes lit up at the sound of the other's woman's voice, her eyes now twinkling as the darkened lusty haze they'd held only moments before quickly began to diminish. "Oh my God, Emma! How are you?" she happily asked, a large dimpled grin lighting her face.

Glancing down her body, Callie's eyes widened; she was in complete disbelief that any of this was actually happening. Her wife had literally just taken a phone call - from another woman - while in the midst of going down on her and, to top that off, she now appeared to be having a quite intense conversation with _said_ woman while her head remained precariously buried between her legs.

"Yes, of course. Of course, I will," Arizona spoke into the phone. "I'll rearrange my schedule. I'll be on the first possible flight out."

Callie's brow furrowed as she listened to the emotion in her wife's voice, a sound so much different from the guttural moans and husky grunts against her center she'd begun to lose herself in only moments before. "What's the matter, Arizona?" she whispered, sitting straight up and swinging her leg over her wife's head.

Arizona held up her index finger to gently halt Callie's question, though she then reached out to tightly grasp at her hand.

Callie's irritation quickly morphed into concern at her wife's behavior and, as she continued to listen to her speak, she became worried at the careful tone of present in Arizona's voice.

"Okay. I'll text you with my travel arrangements," Arizona softly spoke into the phone, her fingers now errantly fiddling with the band of diamonds and gold that circled her wife's left ring finger. "Stay strong, Emma," she then added, her eyes now meeting the apprehensively confused brown ones of her wife. "Everything's going to be okay. I promise."

* * *

><p>As Arizona drove, Callie sat in the passenger's seat, her iPad held in her hands as she once again tried to get her Maps App to find the address her wife had hastily jotted down as they stood in line at Boston Logan Airport waiting to pay for their rental car. She had been unsuccessful in finding the address by using the car's built in GPS and, with a sigh of frustration, she dropped the iPad into her lap.<p>

"I'm telling you, Arizona. The place doesn't exist," Callie grumbled as she dug through the oversized purse at her feet in search of the map she'd nabbed from the Enterprise kiosk. "It's not on the GPS, not on any navigation app. There's no location for it on Facebook, and the only thing that comes up when you Google it is a link telling me it's showing the results for the word _storybook_," she continued to ramble as she found herself tangled in the oversized map she now held in her hands. "How long did you say it's been since you last saw this woman?" she asked, her head snapping to the side to view Arizona's profile as she drove.

Arizona sighed, her thumbs impatiently drumming against the steering wheel. "Can you please stop calling her _this woman _or _that woman_?" she irritably asked, her tone more tense than she had intended. "She has a name, Calliope. It's Emma. And she was my very best friend growing up."

Callie sighed as she continued to watch her wife. She couldn't see Arizona's crystal clear blue eyes behind the aviator sunglasses the other woman wore but, deep down, she knew if she could, she would see the pleading in them to just please play nice and let it go. She didn't exactly know why she was feeling so skeptical about this entire situation, but what she did know was that she wholeheartedly trusted her wife's intuition and, if Arizona thought _this Emma woman _was apropos, then that was really all she needed. That did not mean, however, that she didn't have the right to feel at least a little bit suspect about this town called _Storybrooke_.

Attempting to refold the map, Callie once again sighed and, ultimately giving up _for now_, she haphazardly stuffed the now crumpled atlas into the bag at her feet. "Fine. Fine," she sighed, leaning forward to also pit away her iPad. "I'm sorry," she finally conceded once she had straightened back up in her seat.

Taking her eyes off the two lane road surrounded by lush vegetation, Arizona turned her head to regard her wife and, reaching out with her right hand, she grasped Callie's left, pulling it toward her mouth to place a gentle kiss against tanned knuckles. "Thank you, Calliope," she softly stated before turning her attention back toward the road.

Smiling when Arizona continued to hold her hand, Callie allowed herself to half-heartedly relax for the first time since the ill-timed phone call her wife had received just two days before and, attempting to get more comfortable in her seat, she squeezed the smaller hand within her own as a large wooden sign along the right side of the road suddenly came into view.

_Welcome to Storybrooke._

Both women looked toward the other at the presence of the sign, Arizona's lips curling into a smug grin as Callie silently shrugged in humble defeat.

So, maybe this place called Storybrooke, Maine really did exist. But, as they continued to drive, the overwhelming feeling in Callie's gut persevered, and she found herself completely unable to assuage the deeply seated sense of apprehension and trepidation she felt with each forward rotation of the tires of their rented SUV.

There was just something about this Emma woman and this town of Storybrooke that she simply didn't trust.

If only she could figure out why. . .

* * *

><p><strong>AN2: <strong>So, what do you think? Worth continuing to find out what happens next? Let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter One

**Title**: Far Away, Long Ago

**Author**: HandsThatHeal

**Pairing**: Callie/Arizona

**Rating**: M/NC-17

**Summary**: When Henry falls ill with an unexplained illness, Emma Swan anxiously enlists the help of a friend from her past in the form of pediatric surgeon, Arizona Robbins. What will happen when Arizona and her newlywed wife, Calliope Torres arrive to help? Will the residents of Storybrooke be able to keep their magical secrets? Or will the presence of Callie and Arizona stir up more magic and more secrets than anyone ever could have imagined?

**Disclaimer**: All television shows, books, movies, songs, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work and the characters, events, and settings thereof are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for profit, it constitutes fair use. References to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

**AN1: **I know some people found the prologue to be a little confusing, and I'd just like to say that while there will be characters from _Once Upon A Time _in this story, it will remain mostly a Calzona fic with some _Once Upon A Time_ thrown in for the sake of fairy tales, magic, curses, and spells. . .and all other things mystifying and enchanted. Also, anything written in _italics _denotes the past/fairy tale parts of this story.

**AN2: **The story of Anastasia Romanov has never been featured on _Once Upon A Time _so, any part of this story that refers to the Romanovs, is all-new to the world of _Once Upon A Time_. You don't need to watch the show to be able to understand those sections. I will admit that I am a bit of a nerd when it comes to history, though, so there are parts of this story that are historically accurate when discussing the reign of the Romanov's in Russia, but I have also taken my own creative license with the historical parts of the story, as well.

**AN3: **Thank you all for taking the time to read and review the prologue, despite the fact that this is definitely a bit different than any other Calzona fic I have written. This idea just happened to stick with me after it was mentioned to me, so I thought I'd test the waters and give it a go.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter One<strong>_

* * *

><p>Flopping down on the foot of the bed, Callie sighed as she watched Arizona anxiously move around the room they had just been led to by Granny at <em>Granny's Bed and Breakfast.<em> The two had been together for nearly two before their wedding just over a month ago and, in all that time, Callie would be remiss to say she'd ever seen Arizona quite like this; the blonde appeared distracted, worried, and more than a little overwhelmed.

So, for a while, Callie allowed her wife to pace and aimlessly fiddle with their luggage but, unable to take Arizona's silence and disconcerted behavior a moment longer, Callie sighed, running her palms up and down her own jean clad thighs. "You okay over there?" she softly asked, not surprised when she saw Arizona start at the sound of her voice. "You seem a little bit lost."

Slowly turning to face her wife, Arizona sighed, though a slight grin tugged at her lips. Continuing to smile as she made her way toward the other woman, she nudged herself between Callie's legs, two arms going around a tanned neck as Arizona gazed down into the other woman's eyes.

Callie curiously smiled up at her wife, watching several emotions flash across her face as she carefully considered her words.

"Thank you for coming with me, Calliope," Arizona softly stated before leaning down to lay a gentle kiss against plump lips. Pulling back after the briefest of touches, the blonde then turned herself to take a seat on Callie's lap. "I'm sorry I ruined our vacation with this little detour," she earnestly continued.

Callie shook her head, reaching up to tuck a wayward strand of wavy blonde hair behind Arizona's ear. "There's no way I was going to let you come here alone, sweetie. And you didn't ruin our vacation. You just moved it to a different location."

Arizona smirked, her eyes twinkling with mirth as she leaned in to peck at Callie's cheek. "You're the best," she said on a breath, wrapping her arms more firmly around her wife's neck.

Callie playfully shrugged, tilting her head to the side and losing herself in the clearest blue eyes she'd ever seen. "It's the burden I bear," she teased, snaking her own arms around Arizona's slim waist. "But, are you sure you're okay? You just. . .you seem distant. Is everything alright?"

Arizona once again sighed, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth and, tipping her head to the side as she spoke, she focused solely on Callie's magical brown eyes. "Have you ever. . ."

Arizona trailed off as quickly as she'd begun to speak, seriously worried about how her question might sound. "Never mind," she continued with a huff, waving Callie off. "It's nothing. It's silly."

Callie's brow furrowed upon hearing her wife's response, inquisitive chocolate eyes attempting to gauge her wife's demeanor. Deciding to take a chance and push Arizona further, she slipped her hand beneath the edge of a cobalt blue sweater shirt, a tanned thumb lovingly moving up and down to caress the smooth flesh of a creamy back. "I'm sure, whatever it is, it's definitely not silly. What's up, sweetheart? You can tell me anything."

Arizona pursed her lips as she once again considered her words and, regarding the sincere look written across her wife's face, she finally relented. "It's like. . .have you ever had a weird. . ._feeling_? Like maybe you've been somewhere before, even though consciously - like deep down - you know there's no possible way that could be true?"

"You mean like deja vous?" Callie quickly asked, relieved that her wife was feeling it, too.

Arizona sighed, rolling her eyes more at her own feelings than her wife's question. "See, I told you it's silly," she deferred with a shake of her head, immediately moving to stand from Callie's lap, though two strong arms refused to allow her to escape as they firmly held her in place.

"It's not silly, Arizona," Callie contended, her tone calm. "Do you, umm. . .do you feel that way. . .about Storybrooke?"

Arizona swallowed hard, completely taken aback by the unexplained tears that began to brim in her eyes. "Yeah. I mean, kind of. I don't know," she nervously hedged. "I guess, kind of, I do. But, it's more than that. It's like maybe - _perhaps - _someone is watching me? Like someone here _knows_ me?"

Callie nodded her head, completely understanding and in total accordance with what her wife was valiantly trying to explain. "Well, Emma knows you, right? Maybe it's her?" she offered, desperately trying to give this place called Storybrooke the benefit of the doubt. "Maybe you're just feeling a little nervous about seeing her for the first time in so long?"

Arizona shook her head. "Yeah, that's true. A little. But it's more than that. It's like this place - this little town - something's up with it, Calliope. It gives me the heebie jeebies, and I can't for the life of me figure out why."

Callie licked her lips as she reached out to brush a wayward tear from the corner of each of Arizona's eyes. Something was definitely up with this place and, while she'd initially thought her feelings of uncertainty stemmed from her suspicion of Emma Swan, it was definitely more than that, and she was strangely relieved that Arizona finally seemed to be sensing it, too.

"You think I'm crazy, don't you?" Arizona dejectedly asked with Callie remained silent, once again moving to stand.

Insistent arms again held her tightly as Callie shook her head. "Well, if you're crazy, Arizona, then so am I," she honestly admitted with a smile. "Something strange is definitely up with this place and, I have to admit, it's a more than a little unnerving."

Arizona sighed before swallowing hard against the lump that was quickly forming in her throat. "I'm so sorry for ruining our first vacation together, Calliope. This isn't what you signed up for. This is. . ." she dejectedly trained off, sadly shaking her head. "You can leave if you want. Maybe you should just. . ."

"I'm not going anywhere, Arizona," Callie quickly interrupted, desperately fighting against the feelings of rejection from her new wife that immediately welled within her chest upon hearing Arizona's words. "I'm staying right here, and you and I are going to figure this out. We can do this. Together."

* * *

><p>Hand-in-hand, Callie and Arizona entered Storybrooke General Hospital, first stopping at the front desk to receive directions on where to find the patient named Henry Mills. Receiving their instructions, they continued through the small hospital, both women momentarily pausing outside room 502 before Arizona gently knocked on the door.<p>

They waited several moments with no response but, just when Arizona had once again raised her arm to knock, a bleary eyed Emma Swan appeared through a crack in the partially opened door. "Arizona. . ." she breathed, immediately stepping outside the door to envelope the slightly shorter woman in her arms. "Thank God, you're here."

Callie stood back from the two blondes who remained holding one another in a tight embrace, her hands nervously wringing together as she watched the interaction between her wife and a woman she'd known since her childhood spent in and out of foster homes. The raven-haired beauty had tried to shake off the feelings of unease she felt toward Emma but, after Arizona had finally admitted the sense of suspicion she too was feeling, Callie found herself on high alert. Something was up with the people of this town, and she would be damned if she let anyone or anything hurt her wife.

Pulling back, Arizona smiled sadly as she took in the fatigue written across Emma's every feature, her heart breaking at the agony she saw there.

The clearing of a throat behind her soon broke Arizona from the enigmatic stare she was currently engaged in with the other blue eyed woman and, slowly turning around, her eyes widened once she realized she had quite literally forgotten about her wife. "Calliope. . ." she breathed out, immediately reaching out to pull apart her wife's fitfully twisting hands. "I'm sorry," she softly mouthed, unease filling her form until Callie smiled her signature megawatt smile, magical brown eyes twinkling with love only for her.

Returning her wife's infectious grin, Arizona took her hand, pulling the taller woman to stand next to her. "Emma, this is my wife, Dr. Calliope Torres. Callie. . .this is my oldest and dearest friend, Emma Swan."

Emma's face fell when she realized this raven-haired woman was accompanying her friend but, valiantly attempting to hide the worry she immediately felt at the presence of the admittedly gorgeous stranger, she reached out to shake Callie's hand. "It's nice to meet you, Calliope."

Callie returned Emma's uneasy smile, taking her proffered hand into her own. "You too, Emma. But please - call me, Callie."

Emma nodded in understanding before turning from Callie to once again regard her friend. "Thank you so much for coming, Arizona," she earnestly spoke before turning to open the large wooden hospital room door. "You're really our last hope in figuring out what's going on with Henry."

Following closely behind Emma as she entered the room, Arizona immediately glanced toward the frail figure of a boy lying in the bed while Callie's attention initially landed on the face of a distraught looking dark haired woman seated next to him. Callie couldn't deny that she found something strikingly familiar about the woman who held tightly to the little boy's hand, something eerily compelling in the way she tenderly held his hand.

Looking up from her son, Regina looked shocked to see their visitors, her dark eyes beginning to rage as she took in the figures of not just one, but two, strangers in the room. "Ms. Swan. . ."

"This is my friend, Arizona," Emma stated, purposefully cutting her off. "And her wife, Callie."

"We're both doctors," Callie quickly added, sensing the disdain in the seated woman's every feature.

"We're here to help your son," Arizona also supplied when she too sensed the tension between her friend and the boy's other mother. Emma had briefly explained the situation of Henry's birth and eventual adoption during one of their phone calls to coordinate this trip and, Arizona had to admit, she found it quite chivalrous and admirable that Emma had stepped up to be a part of her son's life once he had found her.

Without acknowledging the two doctors in the room, Regina turned her eyes from Emma to loving gazed back down at her son before disentangling her fingers from his in order to stand. "Ms. Swan. A word," she sternly spoke before disappearing out the door.

Emma nervously glanced between Arizona and Callie before leaning over to kiss Henry on the forehead. "If you'll excuse me."

"What are you doing, Regina?" Emma spat once she was sure the door had closed behind her. "They're here to help us, and you just treated them like pariahs!" she whisper yelled from where she now paced in front of Henry's hospital room door.

"_Me_?!" Regina adamantly contended. "What the hell are _you_ doing, Ms. Swan? You specifically said you were bringing _one_ person to Storybrooke. Not _two_. We have no idea if we can trust one of them, let alone two. You may trust this friend of yours, but what about the other one? How do we know who she is or where she's from or if she can be trusted?"

"Do you have any better ideas?" Emma shot back, her body tense as she halfheartedly listened to Regina berate her for bringing not only one stranger, but two, into the city limits of Storybrooke. "I had no idea Arizona was married. And, I certainly didn't know she was bringing someone else with her. For God's sake, Regina! You act like I'm waging some massive plot against you and the people of this town."

"It wouldn't be the first time," Regina's gravelly voice barked back. "Your track record. . ."

"That's enough!" Emma instantly shouted, careless of the nurses roaming about the hallways nearby. "It's over now, okay? Arizona and her wife are both here now, and there's not a damn thing we can do about it," she continued, barely resisting the urge escalating within her to throw the dark haired woman up against the wall. "Henry is the only thing that is important to me right now, Regina and, at this point in time, I couldn't care less about you and the secrets of your precious Storybrooke."

* * *

><p><em>Alexandra Romanov found herself being shuffled through a crowd of people in what appeared to be a town square, the hustle and bustle of people around her making her nervous that someone was going to recognize her. She had absolutely no idea where she'd ended up, and all she could think about was the terror she'd seen in her daughter's bright blue eyes as the hands of a dark figure tugged her away from her. <em>

_Alexandra cringed at the thought; the man may have thought he would go undetected, but she knew who he was. She could recognize that figure anywhere._

_Grigori Rasputin._

_Alexandra shook her head as she thought back on the events that had brought such a man into her life and the lives of her husband and five children. _

_Once upon a time, the canons of the Saint Peter and Saint Paul fortress fired three hundred times to announce that, after four daughters, Alexandra of Hesse had given birth to a son. Alexei Nikolaevich Romanov was born into the House of Holstein-Gottorp-Romanov and all of Russia rejoiced because they finally had a Tsarevich. _

_And like the rest of Russia, Alexandra and her husband, Nicholas II were overjoyed but, within six short weeks, that overwhelming joy turned into crushing pain. Something was seriously wrong; the slightest bump, the smallest pinch, and their brand new baby boy's skin would bruise. Severely. The child cried with pain, and absolutely nothing or no one could offer him relief. _

_Alexei was a hemophiliac._

_For Alexandra, the news was devastating. She'd already lost a brother and an uncle to the disease and, deep down, she already knew what the diagnosis meant. Her beautiful boy had almost no chance of surviving to adulthood and, even if he did, he'd never live the life she wanted for him; he'd never be able to run and play like a normal child because there was absolutely nothing conventional medicine could do._

_So, Alexandra looked elsewhere and, upon her search of desperation, she found Grigori Rasputin. He was once the most mystical man in all Russia and was said to possess the ability to heal through prayer. Her family had endlessly suffered health problems for years and, unsure of what else to do, she'd sought him out to somehow heal her son. _

_And it had worked. For a while. Until his spiritual guidance and counsel ultimately came at a price. _

_His drinking and womanizing offset Rasputin's gifts. Scandal was his constant companion and, as his power grew, so did his faults, his behavior becoming increasingly outrageous. Nicholas II ignored it - Alexandra denied it - but the scandal was always there and, the stink of it, threatened the imperial autocracy because many believed there was more to the relationship between Alexandra and Rasputin than the sharing of spiritual comfort._

_As she wandered out of town and down a path surrounded by flora and fauna, Alexandra sighed as her memories consumed her, a giant tears streaking down her face. _

_How could she have been so selfish? How could she have been so enchanted by this man? _

_It was like he had hypnotized her; he had swooped in, enraptured her with his easy way, completely bleeding all rational thought and common sense from her being. All she wanted was to be a good mother and to help her children but, all she had ended up doing was causing controversy, bringing nothing more than despair and eventual death to her family. _

_Alexandra was sure Rasputin had tortured Anastasia to death after he had captured her from the train and, with that thought in mind, she began to cry harder. She had been so close to escaping with her youngest daughter but, ultimately, she had been ripped from her grasp, as well. Just like everything and everyone else whom she had ever loved. _

_"Whoooooaaa!"_

_Alexandra looked up with a start at the sound of a man's voice and the squeal of a horse, raising her arms about her head to shield herself from the blow she knew was about to come from where the horse had reared up in fear as she'd aimlessly wandered into its path. But, just when she was sure she was about to be trampled by the horse's front hooves, the rider of the horse expertly guided the beast away from her. _

_Alexandra's first instinct was to run, to flee the presence of this stranger, but to where? She had nowhere to go. She had no family. No friends. She wasn't even sure where exactly she was. Maybe this was England? Germany, perhaps? She couldn't be certain, but one thing she was sure of was - wherever she had ended up on her journey that seemed to last an eternity - there seemed to be an eerie and, dare she say, magical energy about this place. _

_"Sorry. I'm so sorry," Alexandra finally spoke once she'd found her voice, watching as a man dismounted the now calmed horse. "I wasn't watching where I was going. I. . ."_

_Alexandra abruptly paused in her speech, her gaze landing on the most magnificent set of blue eyes she had ever seen. The man standing before her had sandy blonde hair, a muscular build, and a face she instantly knew she could trust. There was something she found oddly enchanting about this man and, in that moment, she knew she needed to befriend him. _

_Because. . .she needed to start a new life. _

_Her heart broke at the thought of ever attempting to place her husband and five children in the past but, if she was going to survive, if she was ever going to be able to carry on with her own life, she needed to start somewhere, and something deep inside her told her she just might be able to do so with the assistance of this man._

_"Are you alright?"_

_The man's question caused Alexandra to once again flinch, her mouth opening and closing several times as she searched for a response. She desperately needed to rid herself of the tumultuous thoughts swarming about in her head and, with a clearing of her throat, she slowly shook her head. _

_Of course she wasn't all right; she had just lost every single member of her family. . ._

_"Take my hand," the man's voice once again broke Alexandra from her agonizing reflection, but he could tell from the look on the woman's face and the torment in her eyes that she absolutely was NOT all right. _

_The man continued to study the verclempt woman and, for reasons beyond him, he desperately knew it was fate that had turned him along this path on this very day. He knew without a doubt that he was meant to help her. "Take my hand," he gently offered again, turning his proffered palm upward. "I can help you. Just take my hand and come with me."_

_Alexandra immediately reached out to take his hand but, suddenly faltered, uncertain of what she should do. _

_"I won't hurt you," he whispered, not wanting to startle the woman any further than he and his horse already had. "My name is Jesse. I promise I won't hurt you," he repeated. "Just. . .take my hand."_

_Alexandra nodded in acknowledgement and, slowly reaching out, her palm brushed against his larger one, the grasp he now held on her, unrelenting. "Thank you, Jesse. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," she softly spoke, a slight tremor evident in her meek voice. "My name is A. . ."_

_Alexandra instantly trailed off, frightened of the repercussions that would certainly come with the admission and eventual recognition of her real name. _

_And so, quickly wracking her brain for an alias, she settled on the first female name that came to her addled mind. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Jesse. My name is. . .Ruth."_

* * *

><p>Later that evening, Arizona sighed in exasperation, hastily running her palms up and down her face and over her tired eyes. "I can't believe we haven't found anything, Callie. What are we missing? There has to be something we haven't thought of," she anxiously spoke, quickly standing from her chair in the small conference room she and her wife had been holed up in for the past four hours.<p>

Callie bit the side of her bottom lip as she concentrated on the MRI of Henry's brain that was now displayed on the computer screen in front of her. "We'll find it, sweetie," she tried to soothe, though she honestly found herself growing more and more frustrated with each passing second. "It's neurological. I just know it is, but. . ."

Callie suddenly trailed off, squinting her eyes as she leaned forward to once again get a better look at the image of grey and white matter she felt like she'd been staring at for the past hundred years.

"Do you see something?" Arizona anxiously asked, quickly recognizing the look of concentration on her wife's face as evidenced by the subconscious nibble of her plump bottom lip.

Callie remained silent as she continued to scrutinize the image, though she rested back against her wife when she felt two arms snake their way around the sides of her arms, a chin now lovingly resting on her shoulder.

"Look at the right temporal lobe," Callie finally stated, tapping the tip of her pen against the screen.

Arizona narrowed her eyes, moving with Callie as the taller woman once again leaned in toward the screen. "Oh my goodness, Calliope," she excitedly exclaimed, her body flooding with relief when she finally discovered what her wife was pointing to. "I can't believe we missed it. . ."

* * *

><p>"It looks like Henry has a small cystic tumor in the right temporal lobe of his brain," Arizona explained a half-hour later to a suddenly full room.<p>

Not only were both of Henry's mothers now present, but so was Dr. Whale, along with Henry's grandfather, a man Arizona had heard Emma refer to as Mr. Gold. And, the two men weren't the only newcomers to the bunch, now seated to Emma's right was a woman named Mary Margaret along with her husband, David who was seated to Emma's left.

"But, if you resect it, there should be no further complications, right?" Dr. Whale asked from his position standing next to Callie at the computer.

"I'm going to defer the rest of your questions to Dr. Torres," Arizona stated, staring at her wife with eyes full of infallible pride. "My wife is the best neurosurgeon in the country, so I'm going to go ahead and let her take the floor," she continued, motioning toward her wife as she took a seat in the chair sitting vacant between Regina and Mr. Gold.

Callie nodded her head, intently gazing at her wife before expertly taking over where Arizona had left off. "Before we get to that, I'd just like to explain a little further," Callie stated, quickly attempting to engage the worried family and friends of the little boy. "We call this a dysembryoplastic neuroepithelial tumor or DNET for short, and it's certainly what caused the seizure Henry suffered at school last month, and it's definitely the cause of the visual and auditory hallucinations he's been experiencing. And that's because of its location in this small area right here. . ."

Callie trailed off, pointing to the scan as she spoke, hoping to explain the symptoms of this tumor as best she could. "It's called the hippocampus, and it functions to store and organize memories. It's particularly important in forming new memories and connecting emotions and senses, but it also gauges our emotional responses and spacial orientation."

"You also mentioned that Henry had been experiencing some delusions that are mystic in nature. . ." Arizona added, though she quickly paused when she saw the people in the room begin to anxiously fidget in their seats, uncomfortable eyes flicking back and forth between the others in the room.

Callie's own brown eyes narrowed as she too watched the room fill with nervous energy, her attention then landing on her wife who was now staring back at her. It wasn't difficult to miss the cloud of mysterious confidentiality that suddenly filled the room; tension so thick, she could cut it with a knife.

"Umm, is there. . ." Callie paused, wanting to ask if there was something wrong, if there was something these people weren't telling her and her wife but, ultimately deciding against it, she pressed her lips together into a thin line in a desperate attempt to keep herself from creating any unnecessary tension between herself and this group of total strangers.

"But you can fix it. Right, Dr. Torres?" Regina brusquely asked, her deep voice quickly cutting through the tumult that was quickly rising in the room, her stormy brown eyes now boring into Callie's soul.

Callie swallowed hard at the superfluous attention Regina was focusing in her direction but, giving a tight nod, she continued to hold the other woman's unrelenting and penetrating glare as she confidently spoke. "Yes," she simply replied, her voice dripping with unwavering fortitude. "I can."

* * *

><p><em>Struggling against the shackles that encircled her wrists, Anastasia Romanov tugged against them in a desperate fight to free herself from the cell she'd been held in since the night she was captured. All she could remember from that fateful night was the harrowing look in her mother's eyes as the older woman reached out to somehow stop her from being pulled off the train but, unfortunately, her mother's grasp just wasn't enough to fight against the antagonistic force of the man who now held her captive.<em>

_"There really is no sense in fighting against the chains, my dear. There's no way you'll ever be able to escape," a dark figure rasped from the opposite of the foreboding metal bars. _

_"Rasputin," Anastasia hoarsely spoke in realization, finally recognizing her captor as the man who had once been the spiritual advisor to her entire family. "Why are you doing this? I thought you were my friend. I thought. . ."_

_"In case you hadn't noticed - things have changed, dearie," Grigori Rasputin docilely argued, his hands held in front of him as he meticulously drummed the pads of his fingertips against those of their mate on the opposite hand. _

_Anastasia immediately bristled at the sound of his voice; his tone was deep and gravelly, though it became oddly high pitched in inflection and timbre when he became angered. And, she could recognize the disdain that was currently in his voice from anywhere; it was the same tone she'd heard him use while threatening her father and mother, adamantly shouting through the halls of the palace that he would make them pay for betraying him. _

_"Why are you doing this?" Anastasia pathetically cried, her own voice choked with the tears she'd begun to cry. "What do you want from me?"_

_Rasputin remained calm as he regarded the young woman; he had so much hatred in his heart for her and her family that everything else around him seemed to fade away into relative obscurity. "You have something I want, little Anya. So, where is it?" he shouted, his calm quickly evaporating, spit flying from his venomous lips as he spoke. _

_"I have no idea what you're talking about!" Anastasia cried, vehemently fighting against the cuffs around her wrists. "I have nothing. For all I know, my entire family is dead. I have no money. The palace is in ruins. What could I possibly have that you want?"_

_Adamantly shaking his head, Rasputin let himself into the dank cell where the Romanov girl was being held, his large hands instantly grasping around her neck and squeezing hard. "Don't lie to me, Anya!" he shouted, her family's pet name for her easily slipping from his tongue. "You know exactly what I want! Now tell me! Tell me where it is!" Rasputin's hands instantly tightened around her neck as he purposefully spat in her face. "Do Svidaniya, Anya, Your Grace," he muttered, shaking the young woman's exhausted body back and forth, his grip on her neck tightening ever further._

_"No!" Anastasia croaked in a strangulated gasp. "I. . .I. . .please. Don't. . ."_

* * *

><p>In the dark of the night, Arizona bolted upright in bed, her entire body drenched with sweat as her own hands hysterically pawed at her neck.<p>

She couldn't breathe. Her heart was throbbing in her ears and thundering so hard against her chest, it felt as if it was going to violently burst right through the confinement of her ribs.

She just. . .she needed to get free. She needed air. She was suffocating. She was being asphyxiated by the unremitting grasp of a dark stranger.

"Arizona!" Callie helplessly called, desperately attempting to insinuate herself into the nightmare clouded fog her wife was now existing in. "Arizona! It's me. It's Callie. You're safe. I'm. . ."

Before Callie could finish her statement, Arizona's form became consumed with a torrent of sobs that left her even more breathless than before, wild blue eyes desperately searching her surroundings for something familiar to grasp on to, something that could pull her back into reality and tether her back to the earth.

Witnessing her wife's continued distress, Callie was immediately on her knees in the middle of the bed, crawling to kneel directly in front of her wife and, searching Arizona's normally crystalline blue eyes, she now found them to be completely struck with fear; so much evil was brewing within them that Callie could tell Arizona wholeheartedly believed the terror she had suffered in her dream was certainly about to come true. . .


	3. Chapter Two

**Title**: Far Away, Long Ago

**Author**: HandsThatHeal

**Pairing**: Callie/Arizona

**Rating**: M/NC-17

**Summary**: When Henry falls ill with an unexplained illness, Emma Swan anxiously enlists the help of a friend from her past in the form of pediatric surgeon, Arizona Robbins. What will happen when Arizona and her newlywed wife, Calliope Torres arrive to help? Will the residents of Storybrooke be able to keep their magical secrets? Or will the presence of Callie and Arizona stir up more magic and more secrets than anyone ever could have imagined?

**Disclaimer**: All television shows, books, movies, songs, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work and the characters, events, and settings thereof are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter Two<strong>_

* * *

><p>"Arizona. Honey, it's me," Callie softly stated, though he voice was firm as she attempted to break her wife from the trance that was currently holding her prisoner in a place so very far away from the real world.<p>

"Stop, please. Please don't hurt me. I have no idea what you're talking about," Arizona continued to plead, her petrified and tearful cerulean eyes locked onto the fearful and worried brown ones of her wife. Those eyes. They were so familiar. They meant so much. They were the eyes she could see her future in but, yet, they were the same eyes of the man who was currently holding her prisoner in a dank jail cell. "Please. . ."

Grasping at her wife's forearm with one hand, Callie reached forward, gently brushing her palm over Arizona's face to close her wild looking eyes. "Listen to me, Arizona. It's me. It's Callie. Listen to my voice. It's me, honey. It's. . ."

Arizona's heart was racing; the voice speaking to her sounded familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. She needed to get away. She needed to run and, with her arms beginning to flail in an attempt to break herself from her assailant's grasp, she pulled and tugged, until the back of one of her now freed hands came in contact with the smoothness of someone's face. "Leave me alone. Just. . ."

"Arizona!" Callie screamed in pain, caught off guard and completely shocked by the sudden and harsh impact against her cheek and nose. "What the Hell?" she continued, though her demeanor immediately softened at the sight of Arizona gasping and gulping for air as she clutched her chest, her entire body trembling with fear.

Callie felt terrible for her sudden outburst, but. . .damn that hurt. Her wife certainly had one hell of a right hook; her small fist packed quite the punch. But, this had gone on for way too long; this wasn't just a nightmare. Something had thoroughly taken hold of her wife and was refusing to let her go. So, quickly standing from the bed, Callie scooped Arizona up into her arms and, after surveying her surroundings, she carried the still flailing blonde into the bathroom, depositing her on her feet inside the shower before turning on the tap.

With frigid water now raining down over both of them, Arizona gasped and sputtered, confusion flooding her mind and body and, with her arms still fighting against the person who was holding her captive, her right fist once again made contact with Callie's face.

"Damn it, Arizona!" Callie cried, releasing her wife and holding her hands over her now bloodied lip. "It's me, sweetie. It's Calliope."

At the sound of that name, Arizona's eyes slowly began to return to their normal soft cerulean hue, no longer wide and tyrannized by a hypnotic trance. Blinking several times, her body quickly flooded with the chemicals of fight or flight, her mind unable to concentrate, her eyes remaining unfocused.

Arizona felt completely detached from her surroundings, completely separate from her own body, her own reality. She was in danger and she needed to take action and, unable to fight the overwhelming urge that was telling her to escape, she once again swatted at Callie, her right leg kicking furiously at her wife.

"Look at me, Arizona. You're safe, baby. I'm here. You're okay."

"No. . .no. . .no!" Arizona screamed jerking her body violently from side to side when Callie tried to pull her into her arms. "Get off of me! Just. . .let me go!"

"Arizona!" Callie slightly raised her voice making sure the blonde could hear her, but her tone remained calm in an attempt to not startle her wife any further. "I understand you're scared. It's okay. It's okay to be scared, and I'm here to help."

Arizona's eyes darted back and forth, her chest aching and, with her eyes finally focusing on Callie, she hurriedly ran from the shower, ripping a towel from a rack on the wall before harshly drying her face. Making her way back into the bedroom, she immediately began to divest herself from the now saturated and freezing clothes covering her body before hurriedly rifling through her suitcase to find something warm to wear.

Turning off the water, Callie followed her still terrified wife back into the bedroom and, reaching out to gently stroke Arizona's naked back, she softly began to speak. "I'm here, Arizona. You're safe. It's okay to be scared. I'm here to help you," Callie repeated the mantra over and over into Arizona's ear.

Arizona took deep staggering breaths, trying desperately to calm her racing heart though, she found herself completely unsuccessful. Quickly spinning around, her eyes scrutinized Callie's face, her own contorting in shame and in fear. Those brown eyes that had only moments before been the exact same ones of the man she'd seen in her dreams, were no more. Now they were the loving eyes of her wife; the eyes she'd found herself drowning in every day since the very first moment they'd met. "Oh, God. Calliope," she whispered, reaching forward to place a fingertip against her wife's now swollen lip. "I. . .I'm so sorry. I. . ."

Callie shook her head; this wasn't the first time something like this had happened. Arizona had been prone to nightmares from the very first night they'd spent together in the same bed, but this. . .this one had proven worse than any other she'd ever witnessed. "No. It's okay," Callie tried to soothe though, her face was throbbing like a bitch. "It's not your fault. You didn't mean to. That was a bad one, huh," she softly commented.

Arizona closed her eyes and, swallowing hard, she angrily nodded her head as tears once again began to streak down her face. When she opened her eyes again, she momentarily stared at her wife and, unable to acknowledge the hurt, disappointment, and fear she saw present in those magical chocolate eyes she loved so much, Arizona's body once again filled with adrenaline as she quickly stepped into her shoes before moving toward the door. "I. . .I have to go. I have to get out of here," she insisted, disgust in herself and in her actions written across her every feature.

"What? Where are you going?" Callie asked, immediately moving to stand behind her wife. "Arizona, it's okay. I'm okay. Please. . .just stay."

Only shaking her head in sorrow and defeat, Arizona reached for the door knob and, harshly turning it, she rushed out the door, slamming it behind her and leaving Callie alone and confused.

* * *

><p>Racing out the door of Granny's Bed and Breakfast, Arizona's head darted from side to side and, starting to move left, she paused, ultimately deciding to head right down the completely empty sidewalk. She had no idea where she was going; she just needed to get out. She needed air. She was suffocating and needed to breathe.<p>

She couldn't stand the look she'd witnessed in Callie's eyes, a strange amalgam of so many emotions: fear and uncertainty, terror and disappointment, shock and confusion but, also, hidden in those chocolate orbs was also a steadfast sense of love and devotion, commitment and adoration. In Callie's eyes, Arizona found the same woman she'd fallen in love with, the same woman she'd married, the same woman she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

But, how could that be? How could Callie still feel that way about her after what she'd just witnessed? After Arizona had struck her not once, but three times?

And so, Arizona needed to get away. She needed to remove herself from the situation because, she knew if she remained, if she stayed with Callie in that room a moment more, those magical brown eyes she loved so much would no longer hold all the love in the world but, instead, they would change. They would become dark and foreboding, completely unforgiving with absolutely no love held inside them. Arizona knew, without a doubt, those gorgeous eyes she loved so much would fill with hatred, instead of adoration, and she just couldn't stick around to see that. She'd never be able to survive if Callie looked at her like so many others had done before.

Crossing the street, she slowly lowered herself onto a bench in front of the old library, exhaling an exaggerated breath on her way down. These dreams weren't new to her; she'd always had them but, this was the first time one had seemed so real and certainly the first time she'd actually acted out what was happening in her dream. Callie had always been so understanding when Arizona had unexpectedly awakened her with such dreams, but never before had one been so vivid and never before had one ended with Callie having a swollen lip. . .and God only knew what other injuries after suffering the oblivious wrath of Arizona's frantically flailing limbs.

"Arizona?"

The blonde immediately looked up upon hearing her name and, wiping at the moisture that had collected on her cheeks, she smiled a watery smile when she saw Emma staring down at her. "Emma. Hey," she whispered, arms at her sides to push herself to the back of the bench.

Emma carefully watched her friend and, tentatively stepping forward, she took a seat next to her. "You okay?" she softly asked, her hands clasped together and resting on her lap.

Arizona looked ahead, staring across the street toward Granny's Bed and Breakfast, the place from which she'd fled, the place she's left her sobbing and confused wife.

Shaking her head, Arizona closed her eyes as she momentarily considered what Callie could possibly be thinking but, turning back toward her friend, tearful blue eyes slowly opened and, with a sniffle, she softly began to speak. "I. . .do you remember? When we lived with the Greene's?"

Emma's blue eyes narrowed as she thought back on their childhood spent in foster home after foster home, nodding her head that she did indeed remember the family Arizona was referring to. "Yeah, that was a nice house. I liked them a lot."

Arizona nodded in agreement and, clearing her throat, she scratched her nose with the back of her had. "You and I shared a bedroom there," she softly spoke as she began to explain. "And, umm. . .do you. . .do you remember those dreams I used to have?"

Emma considered her friend's question; that had been so many years ago, so many homes in the past, but she did remember that. She remembered Arizona shooting out of bed on several occasions in the middle of the night, dripping with sweat and screaming out to non-present people to please not harm her. "Yeah. I remember," she gently concurred. "Those, umm. . .those were some vicious nightmares."

Arizona only nodded though she didn't offer any further information, worried what her friend might think if she actually voiced the thoughts that were currently swarming about in her head.

"You still having them?" Emma continued when Arizona remained silent for just a little too long. "The dreams, I mean."

Arizona sighed, completely unwilling to admit the truth but, with a hesitant nod of her head, she once again glanced toward the bed and breakfast before turning back to regard her friend. "I've had the same nightmare for as long as I can remember. Sometimes it's more vivid than others. Sometimes. . ."

Emma reached out, gently laying her palm against Arizona's forearm. "Did you have the nightmare, tonight?" she gently asked, trying hard not to be nosey, but knowing her friend most likely needed to get something off her chest. "And, what about Callie? Does she know?"

A repentant puff of air left Arizona's nose and, rolling her eyes, she shook her head in disparagement. "Well, if she _didn't_ know, she certainly does now," she caustically replied, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her zip up hoodie.

Emma searched her friend's face, finding complete defeat written across her every feature. "Did something happen?" she urged, knowing all too well that sometimes her friend needed a little push to get her to elaborate.

Arizona shook her head, unwilling to voice the events that had actually happened in the room she was sharing with her wife less than an hour before. "There's just something about this place, Em," she admitted, slowly standing from the bench. "Something I can't quite put my finger on, but. . ."

Emma's face appeared concerned and perhaps, a little incriminating but, quickly attempting to mask her worry, she stood in order to step up in front of her friend. "What do you mean?" she cautiously asked. "Storybrooke is a great place, Arizona. It's. . ."

Unwilling to allow her friend to continue with the lie she knew she was fabricating, Arizona pursed her lips and, holding up her hand to halt any further recrimination, she shook her head. "Not tonight, Emma," she stated, uncaring if she was being rude or not. "I'm exhausted, and I'm pretty sure I may have just ruined the very best thing that has ever happened to me," she continued, tears brimming in weary azure eyes as she pointed to the building across the street. "So, just. . .not tonight. Okay?"

Emma opened her mouth to respond but, quickly shut it as she worriedly watched her longtime friend trudge back across the street, Arizona's blonde head hanging low and her shoulders uncharacteristically slumped in defeat.

"I'd be careful of that one, dearie."

Turning on her heel, Emma took in the figure of Mr. Gold lurking in the shadows, the dark man staring back at her with a calculating smirk on his face. "We have no reason in the world to suspect her, Gold," she immediately argued, unwilling to hear a word Henry's grandfather had to say concerning her friend.

With a tight nod, Mr. Gold impishly shrugged before stepping closer to her. "I wouldn't be so sure, dearie," he purposely warned. "You, of all people, should know. . .people aren't always what they seem."

* * *

><p>Quietly entering the room, Arizona gently closed the large wooden door, the metal against metal click of an old fashioned lock, the only sound alerting her entrance. The clicking of a switch was the next sound to fill the room and, turning around, Arizona looked almost shocked to see Callie seated in a chair next to a small desk by the window, her profile lit only by the glow of an antique white milk glass lamp.<p>

"I'm surprised you came back," Callie bitterly mused, her eyes blankly trained out the window and to the empty street below. "I thought maybe you'd go home with Emma or maybe just keep running. I thought you might be halfway back to Seattle by now."

"Calliope. . ."

"No, Arizona. Just. . .no," Callie spat, her emotions getting the better of her as her head snapped around to face her wife.

Callie was angry, and she was scared, and she just couldn't help the petulant feelings that were now bubbling up inside her, threatening to erupt into a river of molten lava in the form of acrid and stinging words. "I thought we were past all this. I thought you were finished. . ._bailing_," she vehemently argued, quickly standing from her seat and crossing the room to stand toe-to-toe with her wife. "I thought when you asked me to marry you. . .when we stood in front of each other a-a-and said our vows. . .you promised you wouldn't shut me out! That you'd talk to me. You promised, Arizona!"

Closing the minute distance between herself and her wife, Arizona tipped her head to the side as she lovingly stared into the puffy red eyes of the woman she adored more than anything else in the entire world.

Why couldn't she just stop running? Why couldn't she realize that Callie was there for her? Not matter what. For better or for worse. She needed to do better. She needed to be better for herself and for her wife and, gently taking the sides of Callie's face into her palms, she tipped her head forward, resting her forehead against the taller woman's chin. Callie wanted to step back, to remove herself and not allow Arizona's touch to cause her to deviate from the very essence of the issue but, the reverence with which her wife had looked at her and the way she was no cradling her face as she cried against her chest, caused the taller woman to summarily let down her guard, to immediately melt at the familiar touch.

"I did promise you that, Calliope," Arizona simply stated, stormy cerulean eyes now looking up at her wife. "And, I know I failed you tonight. In so many ways," she continued, the pad of her thumb gently tracing over the cut left by some part of her flailing body just over an hour before. "And, I'm sorry, Callie. So sorry. For everything."

Callie's head immediately fell forward upon hearing Arizona's heartfelt words, her exhausted limbs grabbing at her wife as the shorter woman held onto her for dear life. And, as they clung to each other like the only thing keeping either of them afloat as they battled a tumultuous sea, Arizona whispered words of love and devotion into her wife's ear. "I'm here, okay," the blonde murmured against Callie's neck. "I'm not going anywhere. Ever again. I promise."

Slowly pulling back, Callie wiped at her face with the sleeves of her shirt and, suddenly feeling weak, she stepped backward to take a seat at the foot of the bed. "I can't keep doing this, Arizona. I can't spend the rest of my life wondering if you're going to bolt at any given moment. I just can't," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

"I know," Arizona replied with a nod, taking a seat next to her wife though a generous amount of mattress remained between them.

Callie sniffled as she took in Arizona's profile, her blue eyes staring at an indiscriminate spot on the floral Victorian wallpaper. "If you know, Arizona, then talk to me. Please. Just tell me what happened tonight," she beseeched, a trembling right hand reaching out to hold Arizona's left, Callie's grip on the smaller hand tightening for fear she would once again try to run despite her promises.

Intently gazing into her wife's pleading eyes, Arizona slowly leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss against the scab that had formed over Callie's lip. "Are you sure you're okay?" she tried to stall, a single tear leaving a watery trail down an already moist ivory cheek. "I didn't hurt you too badly, did I?"

Shaking her head, Callie sighed at her wife's attempt to deflect the subject at hand. "Talk to me, Arizona. Please."

Looking up to the ceiling in an attempt to force the tears back from where they were once again stinging her eyes, she then looked back at her wife and, with a clearing of the moisture that had gathered in her throat, she softly began to speak. "My dreams. . .they don't always start out badly," she softly began, her eyes glazing with the visions in her head glowing dim as an ember. "I-I'm just a kid, and someone's holding me safe and warm. . ."

Arizona trailed off with a shake of her head, embarrassed by the whimsical visions she saw in her dreams. "It's silly, Calliope. I. . ."

"Tell me."

Arizona rolled her eyes and, with a huff, she completely resigned herself to the fact that she needed to open up; she needed to tell Callie the whole truth. "Like I said, in the dreams, I'm a child, and everything is just so wonderful and so. . .magical. Like. . .dancing bears, painted wings. . .horses prancing. Figures dancing gracefully. And it's so real, Calliope. So vivid. It's like all these things. . .have really happened to me. Like they're all things my heart used to know. . .things it yearns to remember. . ."

Callie stared at her wife, considering the description of her dreams and just when Arizona was sure she was going to laugh in her face, a tanned hand reached out, reverently tucking a wayward curl of blonde hair behind Arizona's ear. "It sounds amazing, sweetie. It sounds like the childhood you've always dreamed of."

Arizona nodded; she had always assumed the same. Growing up in more foster homes than she cared to keep track of, she had always presumed these dreams were just her projection of what she wished her childhood could have been. "Yeah, maybe. But, they're so real, Callie, and getting more and more real by the second," she admitted with a frustrated sigh. "And, they never end well. Because, there's always this. . .dark figure. A man, and he. . .wants something from me. . ."

"What does he want?" Callie pressed when Arizona paused in the explanation of her reverie.

Arizona shook her head, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat. "I have no idea, but he's terrifying, Calliope. And, I'm afraid. . .I'm afraid some night I'm not going to wake up from the nightmare in time, and he's actually going to. . .kill me."

* * *

><p>The following morning, sitting in a booth at Granny's Diner, Emma stared down into her cup of cocoa, her right hand fiddling with the handle of the mug.<p>

"What's this about, Ms. Swan?" Regina curtly asked as she took a seat across from the blonde sheriff. "You know I don't like spending this much time away from Henry."

Emma nodded her head; she felt the very same way. Neither she nor Regina had spent more than one night at their homes since Henry had been admitted to the hospital, both women taking shifts and trading off from time to time with David, Mary Margaret, and Mr. Gold to insure someone was always there with him. In reality, though, while they did come and go when necessary, both women could generally be found at Henry's side, holding his hand, talking to him, and stroking the dark hair back from his forehead.

"I know, Regina," Emma replied with a huff. "I don't like to be away from him, either, but I needed to talk to you. Away from the hospital."

Noting the worried look in Emma's blue eyes and the apprehension in her tone as she spoke, Regina's brow furrowed as she watched the other woman take a small sip from her mug. "What's going on, Emma? Has something happened?"

Emma nervously stirred her hot cocoa with a silver spoon, her eyes initially refusing to meet the dark brown ones of the woman seated across from her. "I talked to Arizona last night. She, umm. . ."

"Did she tell you something else about Henry? Did something change with his plan of care?" Regina immediately interrupted, insurmountable worry for her son evident in her voice.

Emma shook her head, her eyes finally flicking up from her cup to regard an anxious looking Regina. "No, nothing like that," she honestly admitted. "But, I'm worried about her. When we were young, she always had these dreams. . .well, more like visions, I guess," she began by way of explanation. "And, I'm worried. Some of the things she said to me. . .I think she's starting to suspect. . ._something_."

Regina's mouth opened, her eyes instantly lighting with fire. "This is exactly what I was worried about!" she whisper yelled across the booth. "I told you this was a bad idea. You never should have brought her hear. We're. . ."

"On the _SAME_ side!" Emma quickly interrupted, finishing the other woman's sentence with words of her own. "I didn't have to tell you about this, but I did. Because I learned a long time ago that things are better when you and I are on the same team."

"Ms. Swan. . ."

"No, Regina," Emma angrily interjected. "We aren't going to fight about this. Not anymore," she insisted with an adamant shake of her head. "I trust Arizona and, even if she does know something, even if she does figure something out, she's not going to use it to harm anyone or anything in this town," she spat, though the volume of her voice remained low at the presence of the other patrons of Granny's.

But, with blue eyes glazing over with memories of her past, Emma's face softened as she once again began to speak. "You have no idea what it was like for us growing up, Regina. Arizona was my only family for a very long time. My only friend, the only person I wasn't terrified would turn on me in the blink of an eye. She's the most genuine person I know, and she would _never_ do anything to harm me or the people I love. She's one of the very few people I've ever trusted, and we need her right now. _Henry_ needs her."

Regina appeared shocked, her eyes completely enraged as she listened to Emma's rant but, just when she was about to speak, to argue with the other woman, her eyes suddenly lightened, a sliver of understanding coming over her. There was absolutely nothing she wouldn't do for her son, and they certainly had faced far worse than two surgeons from Seattle, Washington. "So what do you want to do?" she hesitantly relented, her eyes brimming with tears at the mere thought of losing her son.

Emma swallowed hard, carefully considering her words as she once again stirred her cocoa. "I think Gold knows something. Something about Arizona."

Regina conspiratorially leaned forward, her forearms now resting on the table. "What do you mean _he knows something_? Like something. . ._magical_?" she questioned, her face curious, but unconvinced.

Emma simply nodded, glancing around her for potential eavesdroppers and, just as she was about to elaborate, she stopped, watching as Regina quickly stood from her seat to briskly make her way out the swinging glass door.

* * *

><p>"Give it up, Gold!" Regina spat, her palms resting on the glass case separating herself from the short statured man. "We know you know something."<p>

Mr. Gold merely smirked as he looked up from where he was polishing a gold pendant. "And what exactly is it you think I know, dearie?" he asked, taking off the gloves he wore and setting them to the side. "And even if I did, why would I tell you?"

Emma inhaled a deep breath in an attempt to compose herself enough to not jump across the glass showcase to strangle the little troll of a man. "Don't play dumb with us, Gold. Tell us what you know," she demanded, completely through with playing his little games time and time again.

Mr. Gold began to speak but, looking beyond the two women standing before him, he stared over their shoulders to watch the figures of another blonde woman and a raven haired beauty walk hand in hand down the street. He smiled slightly as he watched Callie kiss Arizona's cheek, though a slight snarl tugged at his lips when he saw the shorter woman whisper something into the taller woman's ear. "I'll tell you what you want to know," he then spoke, his tone menacing and his face scowling. "But as you know, everything comes at a price."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>Thank you all so much for continuing to read and review. I'm glad some of you are really seem to be getting into this one, and I look forward to seeing what you think! Happy Weekend to everyone!


End file.
